


Oriole in Flight

by bluetoast



Series: Birds of a Feather [31]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Deaf Dean Winchester, Gen, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 06:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1541078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam always suspected that there was more to Dean's disappearance from his life than his dad let on. He just didn't know how scary it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oriole in Flight

Sam settled into his seat, doing his best to contain his excitement. He didn't feel like he was lying to his dad about how he was spending Thanksgiving. He said he was going to spend it with a friend, so it wasn't a total lie. For the first time in ten years, he was going to spend a holiday with his big brother, Dean. When the two found each other back in September, it'd been unreal for him. The fact that he'd met his brother while he was there touring Stanford – the frickin' medical school - just made Sam's head spin at the thought. After Dean had gone back to Maryland with his parents and his own school, Sam started looking things up on his brother when he could. And the things that he found just utterly blew his mind. Dean Coulter, deaf since birth, had been on three World Championship teams, led the American men to a silver medal last year, was ranked number one in the country on rings and floor and had missed the US Olympic team by less than a half a point. Sam thought that was a raw deal – considering what the US Gymnastic team looked like this year. The fact that his brother was borderline famous in gymnastics also freaked Sam out. Dean had done just incredibly in the past ten years – both athletically and academically.

Dean had asked Sam not to tell dad about finding him. Sam was all to happy to oblige. After their initial meeting, Sam started asking dad about his older brother. Why did he get left behind, what really happened in that motel in Minnesota, why did he think Dean would still be in that foster home – all the questions ended with dad getting pissed. Sam knew the conversations about Dean were officially over with John Winchester when he said that 'hunters have no use for a deaf person' and Sam had wanted to reach through the phone and strangle his father. He knew, deep down, that eventually he'd have to tell dad about Dean. 

Sadly, Sam could see his father discrediting all of his accomplishments, probably throwing in comments about wasting time and other such bullshit. He knew it wasn't his imagination, he'd seen it directed at himself when he auditioned for the fall musical his freshman year of high school instead of running cross-country, like dad had expected. Sam won a minor role, but dad didn't even come to see him perform. He was offended that his son was doing something so... girlish. Of course, when Adam landed a leading part in his grade school's production of _The Wizard of Oz,_ John Winchester had been all smiles and beyond proud. Apparently portraying the Tin Man was better than being the lead sharecropper in _Finian's Rainbow._

Sam closed his eyes as the plan rumbled onto the runway. It'd take six hours to get across the country. He went over in his mind all the things he and Dean could do over this holiday. They'd have to work their way through the Smithsonian, after living so close to the capitol for ten years, his brother no doubt knew the best things to see and when the best times to be there were. Kate-Mom would want to see pictures. Dad would see them too... and then he'd see Dean. Sam flinched slightly as he felt the plane race beneath him and start to lift. Well, his brother wouldn't be in every shot. He'd keep the ones with Dean in them separate until he was ready to tell dad about his discovery.

*

Dean finished cleaning the last of the chalk from under his fingernails and then washed his hands. After he was finished getting cleaned up from his daily gymnastics regimen, he knew he had to hurry if he wanted to get a parking spot at the metro stop. Sam was coming for the holiday. He jogged out to his car and headed out. He hadn't made a full plan of what he and his brother would do while he was in Washington. Since Sam said he'd never been to the capitol, Dean decided he'd wait and see what he wanted to do most. This wouldn't be Sam's only visit out, he was certain of that. They'd have to to the Air and Space Museum, that was certain. Go to the memorials – Vietnam, Washington, Lincoln and Jefferson. After that – well, they'd make a plan. All they needed to do was get Sam a metro pass and they were all set. Dean would just cut back a few hours at gym. 

The metro ride from his home in Potomac to Ronald Regan International required that he change lines in the heart of downtown to Washington, and after he got onto the train that would take him to the airport, he checked that he still had the pass he'd picked up for Sam before turning his attention to the marquee over the doors so he could keep track of the stations as the train passed them. The train was crowded with passengers, most of them bound for the airport no doubt. More people got on with each stop, with Dean giving up his seat to a pregnant woman and her husband shortly after they left the main part of the city. His assumption most of the people were airport bound was proven true when he joined the crowd pouring out of the train at that stop. He checked his watch – Sam's plane, if it wasn't delayed, should have just landed.

The bustle was easy to deal with and after quickly scanning the monitors, Dean headed down to his brother's gate. Sam was easy to pick out from the rest of the passengers. Hell, he was almost a head taller than all of them. He beamed when he saw Sam wave. He pushed back his sunglasses so he could read his brother's lips easily. 

“Dean!” Sam hugged his brother. “How are you?” He started to sign when Dean set a hand on his wrist.

 _“Good to see you too, Sammy.”_ He signed. _“Let's get out of the airport before any serious conversation. Are you hungry?”_

“Whoa... whoa..” Sam held up his hands and made the motion for 'slow down' “I don't need anything right now.”

“Sure.” Dean handed Sam the metro pass. 

Sam shifted his bag and looked at the card. “Thanks. I didn't check any luggage so we don't need to go to baggage claim.”

 _“Got it – and you're welcome.”_ Dean grinned and led his brother through the busy airport for the exit. 

*

Sam set his bag on the guest bed and looked around the room. It reminded him of the room at Pastor Jim's that he and Dean used to share when they were there. A framed picture of some saint beamed at him from one side of the room and the bed was covered with a giant knitted blanket. He frowned at the odd looking black device shoved under the mattress until he read the side of it. It was a type of smoke detector, designed to shake the bed in the event the alarm went off. “Wild...” He went to his bag and pulled out the gift he'd gotten for Mr and Mrs Coulter. Mama Kate had told him that it was good manners for him to bring a present for his host and, after asking Dean for a suggestion, he'd settled on coffee mugs, after learning the couple collected them. When he heard a knock on the door, he looked up to see his brother standing there. “Hey.”

 _“You need anything?”_ Dean came into the room, looking a little uncertain. 

“No, I'm good.” Sam signed and spoke at the same time – just in case he got the sign wrong. “Who is that?” He pointed to the picture on the wall.

 _“That's Thomas More. I'm surprised Pastor Jim didn't tell you about him.”_ Dean paused. _“I'm not talking to fast, am I?”_

“I think I can keep up.” Sam grinned. “Why should I know who Thomas More is?”

_“He's the patron saint of lawyers.”_

“Oh.” He rubbed his nose. “Your parents home yet?”

 _“No. They get home a little after six, usually.”_ Something in Dean's face changed. _“I want to show you something.”_

“Sure.” He let his brother lead him down the hall to another room, this one was clearly his brother's. There was a sports blanket on the bed and there were a bunch of framed photos on the dresser. He looked around the room, slightly confused. He'd already seen his brother's medal and trophy collection, so what else was there to see? “What is it?”

Dean held up his hands and slowly started to sign. _“I didn't mention this back in September, but shortly after I came to live here, I started speech therapy.”_ He licked his lips, and for the first time in his life, Sam heard his brother speak. “So we can talk now.” 

Sam didn't even mind the few syllables that sounded off to him. “That's great Dean.”

“It's not always easy.” Sam noticed he still signed as he spoke. “I'm not comfortable speaking with outsiders.”

“Why didn't mom and dad sign you up for the therapy when you were little? Do you know?”

His brother was back to signing. Sam figured it made him more comfortable. _“They probably would have – but I think they were busy with a lot of other things at the time.”_

Sam didn't need to be told what those other things were – if mom hadn't died in the fire, no doubt Dean would have ended up in those speech classes. “How many people are coming for dinner on Thursday?”

“All of mom's family.” Dean grinned. “Nana will tell you to get a haircut.” He shook his head. “Don't feel bad, she used to tell me I needed to eat.”

He gave his brother a disbelieving look. His brother was a hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle. The idea of him ever being skinny was kind of hard to fathom. 

*  
Dean had thought long and hard about telling his brother the reason he didn't want John knowing about where he was. That he was safe, that he was happy. John would probably go basaltic if he knew that his eldest was _happy._ He learned hard and fast that the mood of the Winchesters was dictated by what John Winchester wanted and everyone else better follow up, or shut the hell up. He didn't even like thinking about John. The period of time between his mom's death and his adoption by the Coulters was like a five year nightmare he was glad he couldn't completely remember.

But he did remember the worst parts more clearly than the good ones. He needed Sam to know what had happened – so he could understand why, if he could all help it, he never wanted to be in the same room as John Winchester again.

Dean went up the hallway and knocked on the open threshold, resolved to do this before he lost his nerve. “Sammy?”

Sam turned and waved his brother in, pulling his earphones off and setting them down. “Hey. I was just about to take a break from this.” He shut the textbook he'd been looking at. 

Dean moved the desk chair so he could look at his brother. “What are you studying?”

“Math.” He looked a little abashed. “I uh – what's the sign for calculus?”

“Not much different.” Dean showed him. “It doesn't bother you if I sign when I talk, does it?”

“No.” Sam gave him a grin. “I think I'm getting in the habit of doing it too.”

“Good habit.” Dean took a deep breath before continuing. “I wanted to talk to you about John.”

Sam frowned at the sign Dean made when he said his father's name – a j coupled with 'asshole' “Dad?” 

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Him.”

“What about Dad?” Sam could already tell this wasn't going to be good. “What did – this isn't about him abandoning you, is it?”

“No.” Dean held the index finger of his left hand out and made a fist with his right and swung it behind his left hand.

Sam felt the blood drain from his face. He remembered learning that sign, praying he'd never have to use it. 

It was the one for abuse. 

***

Dean knew full well that John Winchester never told Sam about what things were like when he lived with them. Sam, being six and younger during that time, probably hadn't noticed anything. He could remember that his father somehow kept forgetting when he got angry that Dean was deaf. His father's beard that he grew after mom died had made reading his lips a little harder than it had already been – and well, John seemed to think a slap, a shove, a punch was a good way to get through to his oldest when he didn't move fast enough. He'd kept it hidden the best he could, of course. Hunters weren't supposed to draw attention to themselves. But he knew when he lay sick in that bed after the shtriga attack, the doctors and the nurses had undoubtedly found the bruises. 

Michael – dad – had been shocked to see him flinch whenever he had done something wrong, bracing himself for a blow. Elisa – mom – had been horrified. She'd stated many a times if she ever met John Winchester, she'd punch him in the gut for her own satisfaction – and then break his nose on Mary Winchester's behalf. Dean looked down at his hands for a moment, flexing them slowly. He knew that he had hands like his mother – he'd always favored his mom more than John. All he had of John's was a stubborn chin. Sam, when he finally learned the truth, had looked ready to murder his father. Dean knew he had to tell his brother the truth – but he knew that he'd also damaged Sam and John's relationship, somehow. Sam told him not to worry about it, that he would handle it. 

He wanted to meet his baby brother Adam sometime soon – he sounded like a cool kid. 

Dean rose to his feet and walked over the bowl full of chalk and began coating his hands, letting his musings of the past five minutes fall away as he got into the zone. He wondered if he had an unfair advantage, the sound of the crowed already muted for him. He raised his chin and scanned his competitors. He'd had been to Nationals before. This wasn't entirely new to him. What was different was the fact that in a house in Minnesota, his brother Sam had made sure that John Winchester was watching. John, who'd left him for dead almost twelve years ago. He straightened his shoulders as he was given the light to proceed to his first event – the high bar, the one he usually had issues with, so starting off on it was the best way to go. As his hands made contact with the apparatus and he began to swing, in his mind, he kept remembering what his mom – Mary – used to tell him.

_You're going to go far, Dean. Don't let anyone tell you different._

First catch and release move – perfect. 

_You're my special angel._

Lift – turn, shift hands – release move and pivot before swinging downward – flawless.

_You'll find your voice._

Flip – catch – swing – his speed was excellent.

_You'll find your wings._

Swing once - 

_I can't wait to see what you're going to do._

Swing twice - 

_You're my special angel._

Release on third swing – flip upwards into the air -

_You have wings – I know you can fly_

Straightened and found his mark -

_You're my special angel -_

Dean's feet slammed into the floor and he braced himself, arms out and he straightened and saluted the judges. As his scores flashed on the screen, he could feel the roar of the crowd in the air. There were five more events to go – and he'd just put on one of the best routines of his career. He went down to the staging area to gather his things, keeping his game face on. But in his mind, he was smiling.

_See my wings, mama? I have learned how to fly!_

*

John had gotten out of watching that stupid gymnastics meet – what the hell had Sam wanted him to see anyway? If his oldest was turning out to be gay – well, he'd put a quick end to that. For someone who hadn't been on a hunt in several years, it was amazing how it all came back to him so quick. Simple salt-and-burn that probably could have waited, but he was really getting sick of Sam's mind games. Damn boy was getting so defiant. It had to be that college atmosphere. When he came into the kitchen, he was stunned to find Adam sitting there, even though it was well past his bedtime. 

“Trouble sleeping?” He hung his jacket on a hook, coming out of the mud room.

“Who's Dean?” Adam said flatly, a pained look on his face.

“Dean?” John gave him a confused look. “Dean who?”

The boy stood up, looking on the verge of tears. “Sam was right. He said you'd pretend not to know. Is that because you hit Dean a lot?”

John felt like he'd just been punched in the stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“Sam told me that we've got an older brother named Dean. He said you got rid of Dean because he was deaf and because of that you used to hit him.” He grasped the table, giving John the best hard look he could manage. He wasn't used to acting this way towards his dad. “Is that true?”

“I couldn't take good care of Dean.” John brushed past him, heading for the stairs. “Just drop the subject, Adam Joseph.” 

“That's not an answer.”

“I said _drop_ the subject!” John knew he raised his voice and when he caught the look on his youngest son's face, he felt as if his heart had just been squeezed. The eye color and the facial features were different – but in the face of ten year old Adam, John saw a nine year old Dean, looking up at him, his freckled cheeks red from where he'd slapped them. “Adam...” When he took a step towards him, the boy backed away. “Just...”

“Sam told me he found Dean. He also told me you wouldn't care. If you hadn't known about me, would you have cared when you found out?” He balled his hands into fists. “You threw my brother away!” He screamed and ran past him up the stairs.

“Adam!” John started after him and reached the stairs just as Adam reached his room. “Adam, listen to me...”

“I don't care!” He yelled. “You threw away my big brother away because you thought he wasn't any good!” He slammed the door and the house fell silent.

John resisted the urge to march down and try and sort things out with his youngest. Perhaps things would be better in the morning, after they had both slept. After he changed into his night clothes and got settled into bed, he could hear Adam crying in his room. He swallowed hard – he had a feeling that karma had just come and punched him in the gut.

He was certain of it when, a week later, he was flipping through the current issue of _Sports Illustrated_ when he caught sight of a story spread – and there was Dean, full grown from a boy into a man, a look of utter elation on his face with his arms spread out like he was going to grab someone unseen in a bear-hug. The story proclaimed that Dean Coulter had become the first deaf person to be crowned a national champion in gymnastics.

Dean had found wings. Just like Mary had told him he would countless times.

John had never believed it. 

His late wife and his first born had just proven him wrong.

He could swear he could hear Mary laughing in triumph – wearing the exact same expression as Dean's in the photo.


End file.
